Smile, You're on Weasley Camera
by Pinocchio and Mellimetre
Summary: What do you get when you mix a pair of Weasleys, Muggle technology, and odd, secret goings-on at Hogwarts? Complete and utter nonsense, of course!
1. Mischief Managed

**~Smile, You're on Weasley Camera!~**

A/N:  Mel: Hello, you poor, deluded fools.

Sharon:  This is a particularly distressing outburst of coauthored "creativity".

Mel: Well, that's another thing to call it.  That's my next line.

Sharon: You know, you don't have to tell me to write it, I'm scribing whatever you say anyway.

Mel: ah.

Sharon: … 

Mel: Now what are you typing?

Sharon:  Hold on—there. 

Mel: Um, not to interrupt you, but you're going to have to print this out for me to read tomorrow.  The 'Find' button is temporarily out of order.

Sharon:  Hold on.  Anyone ever tell you that I'm a slow scriber?

Mel:  You're not supposed to be scribing that!  It's an aside, nothing to do with the fic at all!

Sharon:  I know.  Shut up!  I'm scribing everything, even that.

Mel:  Oh, well, tell me when I can speak again.

Sharon: 'K.  *Mad typing ensues*

*Other phone is picked up*

Sharon:  I'm on the phone.

*Other phone is put down*

*Sharon makes a typing error* Bloody… 

Mel:  What?

Sharon: Nothing.  Shut up.

*two sets of snickering*

Sharon: All right.  Talk.

Mel: … I own everything—MINE!  You do realize you need to tell me what you're saying?

Sharon: I know.

*Other phone is picked up*

I'm on the phone!

*OP is put down, then picked up again*

John:  I need the phone like, really soon.

Sharon: 'K.  Mel, you took a…

*OP picked up*

Sharon: I got it!

… long time to think that up, you know?  And no, you DON'T own everything.  Snape's mine.

Mel:  No, It's not!

*OP*

John:  I don't need the phone for long!  You can call back.

Sharon:  Fine.

Mel:  Bye.

Sharon:  Bye.

***Start new phone convo*** 

Sharon:  Hi, is Mel there?

Mel:  This is me.  Let me switch phones…Ok, thank you mom… OH NO!

Sharon: *laughs* Ok, speak—wait!  My answer: Snape's not an 'It'.

Mel: Huh?

Sharon: Before, you know that 'It isn't mine', you know.  Snape's not an It.

Mel: Alright, fine, It's Rowlings.  

Sharon:  Snape's not an It at all.  It's got nothing to do with this.

Mel: Before you start –that-, we should start with the fic.

Sharon:  Oops, nearly put down f---- instead of 'fic'.  Fine, on to the fic!

Mel:  Good.

***

The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Banquet was well underway.  The Great Hall was bright with the light of many candles, and resounded with the noise of chattering friends (and the odd enemy or two).

There was conspicuously less noise then usual from the Gryffindor 7th years, as Professor Severus Snape noted with narrowed eyes.  Perhaps they were reflecting the mood set Dumbledore, whose opening speech had been less jubilant than in previous years, due to the death of that Hufflepuff at the end of last year, the return of the Dark Lord, and the mysterious (no, don't worry, they're _not_ Mary Sues, despite that over-used and much-abused adjective, "mysterious") holes that had appeared in every last pair of Dumbledore's socks.  Snape's eyebrow twitched slightly at the thought of those bloody socks; Dumbledore's primary concern when Snape reported after every Death Eaters' meeting was whether he had discovered the Dark Lord' dire plot against his socks.  Something or other about "Killing the foe by killing his heart", Snape mused.

The students began to file out of the Hall, heading toward their respective dormitories.  Students who had been to the School previously requested the password of their prefects, before dashing off at their own pace.  The first years walked tightly bunched together, following their prefects in almost absolute silence.  It had been this way since anyone could remember, so it was a significant difference to see that a pair of identical Gryff 7ths were the last to leave the Great Hall.  They dragged their feet slowly across the floor.

"I can't believe it!  Out last year had finally come."

"Hmm," the second twin agreed, "And hardly anything to show for it, too."

George Weasley stopped and looked at his twin, dumbstruck.  "What d'you mean?  We have _load_ to show for it!  Remember the passageways?  The Dungbombs?  The Canary Creams?"

Fred shook his head sadly.  "Those were all right, I suppose, but they're not _enough_.  D'you really think that fifty years from now, Students will be talking about us, longing to follow in our famed footsteps, just because we turned someone into a bird for a few seconds?"

"Maybe you're right," George replied, as an unaccustomed frown creased his brow, "We need to go out with a bang.  We're going to have to do something that Hogwarts will _never_ forget."

***

Very late that night, long after all the others had gone to sleep, the voices of Fred and George Weasley could still be heard in the Gryffindor Common Room.    

"Are you bloody _mental_?" George hissed sharply, "We want something that they'll remember us for, not expel us!"  

          "They won't expel us," said Fred calmly.

          "Really?" George raised his brows.  "I'm sure you'd like to explain the logic underlying that conclusion."

          Fred grinned toothily.  "Because, my dear Foerge, by the time it's pulled off, we'll be _graduates_.  Untouchable!"

          Grin matched grin.  "So how do we do it, my beloved Gred?"

          "Simple," Fred put a hand into his pocket, and pulled out a handful of tiny, black buttons.  "These are a bunch of Muggle security cameras, called 'buggers', I think."

          "Weird, Muggles, eh?" commented George.

          "Yeah," Fred shook his head.  "Anyhow, I found 'em in Dad's shed.  We can recreate moments from real peoples' lives, just by switching them on properly.  We set these on the right people, and we'll be set!" 

          "Right," said George, "Erm… How does it—uh how does work?"

          Fred looked uncertain for almost nearly half a second, and gestured (not rudely, I assure you.  Completely PG.) to the book set up between their chairs.  "The book says it takes 48 hours for the spell to take affect.  Between what's left of tonight, and all of tomorrow and tomorrow night, we should be able to make them follow whoever we want."  He could see another question forming on George's face, and anticipated the question before it was asked.  "And yeah, I borrowed the Map from Harry, we don't have to worry about Filch or the _thing_ he calls a cat."

          "Wicked," grinned George.  Fred mirrored the look, and for a moment, the twins looked very, very devilish indeed. 

          George grabbed the book and scanned the page.  "It says we don't need anything, not even our wands.  Are you ready?"

          Fred grinned again, a reckless and mischievous glint in his eye.  "Have I ever not been, brother mine?"

          "Right," breathed George, and the two began the incantation printed on the page.  The air around them was heavy with ancient magic of the most horrific kind.

          "Mé kaln, mé kaln,

          "Kil na moln amár itish mé;

          "Itish kat ta ouaind morina kaln,

          "A del grotho, itish kat dé!"

          An eerie silence hung for a moment in the air as they finished.

          "Is that it?"  George asked in a hushed whisper. His twin nodded in awe.

          "That be it.  Now, let's go and hang some of these 'buggers' before we have to be at breakfast."

          "This is going to be _great_!"

***

          All eyes were turned toward the Head Table as Albus Dumbledore, (Greatest-Headmaster-Hogwarts-Had-Ever-Seen, World Renowned lemon drop connoisseur, All-Around-Nice-Guy, and who always scrupulously ate his five servings of fruit and vegetables) rose to make his End-of-Term speech.  The school year had literally whizzed by, (seeing as it was mostly full of meaningless drivelly nonsense that was both uninteresting and completely unprintable) and most students were quite eager to be going home.

          Harry Potter was rather conspicuously –not- at the Feast, due to a particularly distressing (though rather laughable, if you weren't Gryffindor, and therefore completely addicted to Potter's well-being) event.  Voldemort had been very quiet all year, and Harry had been able to get through the year without once being sent to the much-hated Hospital Wing.  Indeed, he had been so jubilant over the fact that the school year hadn't ended in a hospital bed, that he had twirled and danced his way down to the Feast—until, that is, his foot had snagged on a railing (silly boy shouldn't have been doing the cancan without the proper dress and kick line, anyhow!) and promptly sent him tumbling down three flights of hard stone stairs.

          He currently resided in the Hospital Wing.

          "Another year finished," Dumbledore began.  "This year, as it has been for the past—" he paused momentarily to count on his fingers, "Three, four… well, since Harry Potter got here, at any rate, the House Cup is awarded to Gryffindor House!"  Dumbledore paused as the large majority of the Great Hall erupted into cheers and applause.  "Also, the Quidditch Cup is awarded to Slytherin House for their superb—and rather shocking—show of skill and sportsmanship."  The Hall echoed with their half-hearted and rather uncertain applause.  "I would like to announce that—"

          Dumbledore stopped mid-sentence with an undignified "Huh?" as a silvery, gossamer screen dropped down in front of him.  A squeak was heard, followed by a loud thud.  The screen had knocked Professor Flitwick off of his stack of books.  Professor Snape also felt a heavy blow on his head.  Strange thing was, he was nowhere near the screen.  He sent a suspicious glare at the teacher to his left, but Lupin was the picture of innocence.  

          The twins stood up at the very end of Gryffindor Table.  

          "If we could have everyone's attention?"  George called, and waited for silence, which came almost immediately.  "You are likely wondering about this screen you see before you."

          "We decided that we needed to go out with a bang, and do something that Hogwarts would never forget!"  Fred announced, and the students and teachers closest to the screen suddenly looked apprehensive, as if expecting the screen to blow up at any moment.  Soon, some in the crowd would find that it would have been preferential.  "Don't worry, no one here is going to get physically hurt… Er, sorry, Professor Flitwick."

          "Throughout the year, my twin and I have found evidence of some semi-regular—occurrences which we believe should be brought to full public attention."  George resumed, "Professors, if you would move your chairs to the front so that you have a clear view of the screen?"

          Most of the teachers moved at once, some grinning happily (Lupin had the largest grin of all, followed by Dumbledore).  Snape held out stubbornly for almost a full minute before his curiosity got the best of him.  Everyone stared up with extreme curiosity and excitement.

          Fred and George released a hand-full of black 'buggers' into the air, and one floated above the rest.  A bluish cyclone spun out of it, and settled onto the screen, until the entire thing was blue.  A picture came into sparkling clarity on the screen, and the show began.

***

A/N Sharon:  Right.  That was total drivel.

Mel: … Of course.  We wrote it!

Sharon:  Point and checkmate.  End game.  Review, please!

Statement:  We apologize –reluctantly- for the incredibly long Authors' Note at the beginning.  It was taken directly(ish… well, actually, somewhat indirectly. I suck at scribing) from a phone call between Aindel and myself.  Apologies once again, now please put away that wand.


	2. The Dread Snog, er, Song

A/N:

Sharon: I don't want to talk first.

Mel: Mmm.  

Sharon:  Good supper by the way.

Mel: Right.  That's not going in the author notes.

Sharon: Yes it is.

Mel: Fine.  You write then.

Sharon: Fine…Sraida.

Mel: What's that mean?

Sharon: 'Finished'.  What should we say this time?

Mel: Right, first of all: much as we would like to, we still don't own anything.

Sharon: I own Snape!  My dog just kissed my nose.

Mel: You bloody well do not, and it doesn't matter!

Sharon: *laughs**looks highly affronted* Do and does!  You write now, so I can actually eat. *Mutters pointlessly to self*

Mel:  I pity the poor fool who owns the song we used.

Sharon:  It's not pointless muttering!  Oi, you're not supposed to write that.  Should we put in that we call this song the Dread Song?

Mel: Yes: We call this song "The Dread Song".

Sharon:  I just said that.

Mel:  No, you didn't.  You asked if we should say it.

Sharon: Mmm.  Good stuffing.

Mel:  Yecch.  

Sharon: It is!  I love stuffing.

Mel:  You also love Snape.   
Sharon: *Tigger purr sound* I can't wait until I meet him in your fic.

Mel:  Now what?

Sharon:  I dunno.  Should we start the fic?  Hey, what was that?

Mel:  Old story beginning.  Horrible.  I spelled 'phoenix' wrong.  Had to start again.

Sharon:   Let me see.  You dire disgrace.  Ah. *Chokes over laughter* Experimenting with ways to say 'Squawk', eh? Stop hovering.

Mel:  Huh?

Sharon:  You're hovering.  

Mel:  No, I'm not.

Sharon:   You were.  You're doing it again.  *Looks over, sees Mel's head bobbling* What got into –your- drugs?  Continue... without the bobbling.

Mel:  But the song thing happened again.

Both: *hear people saying goodbye upstairs*

Stephanie:  Hi!

Sharon:  Hi.  Hold on, I can't write that fast.

Stephanie:  Are you writing down our argument?

Sharon: Yes.

Mel: Go away.

Stephanie: *laughs*

Mel: Mother dearest, my little sister is bugging me!

Stephanie: Are you still writing?

Mel: *tries to whisper so the Scribe can't hear her* Go away!

Sharon: I heard that.

Mel: You want me to write so you can eat?

Sharon: Nah, you can't remember it.  Besides, I'm casting you in an unfavorable light.

Mel: *glares and tries to see what's written*

Sharon: You're doing it again.

Stephanie: *collapses on the floor in silent laughter*

Mel: *hovers again, then ducks a swing from Sharon* Just trying to see where you were.

Sharon: Done writing.  You take over.

Mel: Yeah.  Just going to do that.

Sharon: Now write it ALL: scribe everything. *Hands over paper* Merry Christmas.

Stephanie: What are you writing?

Sharon: Because we must.

Stephanie: No, WHAT?

Sharon: Mindless drivel.

Mel: Two 'v's or one?

Sharon: What?

Mel: Drivel.  Two or one?

Sharon: One.  Ah, music!  You may want to back off.  I'll be singing.  *To CD player* Go, back, back, back, back, back, back.  You don't have to scribe me singing, actually I wouldn't recommend it.  *Begins singing horribly off-key*

Stephanie: I'm not doing anything; therefore I don't have to leave.

Sharon: Actually, I agree with Steph. *Listening to music* What fantasy world is THIS in?

Stephanie: What?

Sharon: *mindless singing and babbling*

Stephanie: Eeww!

Mel: We should REALLY get to the fics.

Sharon: *laughing* Yeah.

We apologize for the excessively long authors note.  Those responsible have been sacked.  

Sharon:  I have not!

Mel:  Shh!

We apologize again for the mistake in the sacking.  Those responsible for sacking those who were sacked have been sacked.

Random Passers-by: Ooh, I haven't!

Since the problem cannot seem to be remedied, we have decided to keep Sharon away from the keyboard and move onto the fic.

Sharon:  NOOO!!!

Readers: Shut it!

Sharon: *muttering under breath* Ooh, like that'll ever happen.

Chapter 2 

The screen flickered for a moment and Dumbledore's office appeared, larger than life, and wholly due to the sparkly magic of CGI.

            "Hello, Fawkes," the aged Headmaster greeted his phoenix over-jubilantly.  The firebird regarded him coolly, and then turned its back.  After all, Fawkes recognized a barmy codger when he saw one, and he didn't think it quite in keeping with the image he wanted to project to be seen with one.  Oblivious to the cold shoulder he was receiving, Dumbledore pulled out a lemon drop and proceeded to tell Fawkes all about his day.

            "…And Minerva kept looking at me oddly during lunch.  Every time I caught her eye and smiled at her, she turned red as a cherry blaster and choked over her pumpkin juice."

            Fawkes fled his perch, looking quite green.  He had no interest in hearing the pathetic, aphroditical attempts of a pair of wrinkled old sticks well past their prime.  Dumbledore pondered this unusual act on the part of his pet for a moment, and then realized that the phoenix must have an important duty to attend, likely portending to the Order of the Phoenix.  He then remembered that he was the HEAD of the Order, and would have known if it related to that.  Dumbledore shrugged and held aloft a lemon drop until it sparkled in the sunlight coming through his window.

"Ah, Lemon Drop, my one true friend.  Ooohh…" Dumbledore began to sing.

            "If all the raindrops were lemon drops and gumdrops

            Oh, what a rain that would be.

            Standing outside with my mouth open wide

            Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah.

            If all the raindrops were lemon drops and gumdrops

            Oh, what a rain that would be.

            If all the snowflakes were candy bars and milkshakes

            Oh, what a snow that would be.

            Standing outside with my mouth open wide

            Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah.

            If all the snowflakes were candy bars and milkshakes

            Oh, what a snow that would be.

            If all the sunbeams were bubblegum and ice cream

            Oh, what a sun that would be.

            Standing outside with my mouth open wide

            Ah ah ah ah - - ACK!"

            Dumbledore finished ungracefully as the lemon drop slipped from his fingers, bounced off his extended tongue, and slid into his throat.  The camera zoomed in on his face, which was becoming rather blue.  

            "ALBUS!" cried Minerva McGonagall as she burst through the door.  It was rather apparent to the viewers in the Great Hall that she had been peeping in through his keyhole.  She ran to his side, and proceeded to perform the Heimlich maneuver.  The lemon drop shot out of his esophagus and through the window, leaving a small hole in the glass.  

            McGonagall heaved Dumbledore up onto his desk, and started administering mouth-to-mouth.  There was a buzzing, keening sound that made the audience cringe and the screen was filled with static.

            "I remember that one," Goerge whipered sadly to Fred.  "The circuits were fried."

            Many of the students were shocked and appalled.  Minerva appeared shocked, and more than slightly embarrassed.  Albus Dumbledore was busily admiring a lemon drop, which he then popped into his mouth.  He appeared to be completely oblivious to the entire occurrence.  After a moment of silence, there were a few claps fromthose who were in more control of their guts.  Fred flicked his wand at the screen, and CGI magic took control once more.

Mel- We have decided that we will do the end notes for each other's chapters, thus making it easier to haggle one another.  I have no idea what the hell she was thinking.  Sharon has an obvious obsession with CGI (please do NOT ask.  It will only lower your IQ by 100 or so points), and making Dumbledore oblivious to everything.  Neither of us likes this song, and it was only chosen because it contained the words "lemon drop".  Please flame Sharon about the nastiness of MM/AD romances.  She won't listen to me!  

Thanks to our reviewers (Yes, all THREE of you!):

Polegara- We WOULD have hurried up with it, if SOMEONE *coughsharoncough* hadn't taken so long in writing it.  Glad you like it so far!

Itnikki- Once again, this would have been up if I were writing this chapter, but I wasn't so you can blame Sharon for it.

C Jazz- INTERESTING ramblings???? I'm sorry if this is personal, but I have to ask:  What are you ON????  And we stopped there because we like to annoy readers with horrible cliffys.  Hehehe.  It is NOT false advertising, and remember: If you try and sue us, you will get nothing.  Our friend is an aspiring lawyer, and also very forceful with a fist.


	3. Harry's Sidekick Ron

**~Smile, You're on Weasley Camera!~**

Harry's Sidekick Ron

--Phone Conversation, 7:34 pm, Sharon's computer room--

Sharon: Ok, you want to be in on this A/N?

Vanessa:  *laughs* Well, it's not like I'm an author or anything, but sure!

Sharon:  Right.  That does mean that this will be a very long and drawn-out conversation.

Vanessa:  Or I could just come over.

Sharon:  Can't.  Me mam's not home.

Vanessa:  So?

Sharon:  Hum.  Can your parents drive here and back?

Vanessa:  How about if I ask them?

Sharon:  Sure.  *hums and twiddles thumbs for a bit*

Vanessa:  Hey, the parentals said yes!

Sharon: Excellent!

Vanessa:  See you in a couple of minutes.

Sharon:  'Ta.

--End Phone Convo—

Sharon:  *Gets the brilliant idea to actually include the –real- co-author of the fic in the A/N.* Hi, Mel, guess what I just did that you'll hate me forever for?

Mel: *panicked* What?!

Sharon:  I included Nessa in our Notes.

Mel: …Why?

Sharon: …For reasons best suited to myself.

Mel: I see.  Please note that this is the authors' own demented version of 'Jesus' Brother Bob'.  I own it.

Sharon:  Originally of that Arrogant Worms.  But who's concerned with original?  Hey, you'll never guess what I found!

Mel:  What?

Sharon: More proof.  Seriously!  Let me quote this one author's fic that I read: "… Though he wasn't laughing loudly and banging his fist on the table like Draco was."

Mel:  That's it?

Sharon:  that's it.

Mel:  That's not evidence, that's a descriptive sentence!

--Vanessa arrives, 7:47—

Sharon: Hey, come in, I've got Mel on the phone. Right here. 

Vanessa: Hey, this is going to be a great author's note. 

Sharon: *laughs madly* I know.

John: Don't be too long on the phone, I'm waiting for a call. 

Sharon: Fine. I got to go, I'll call you back, all right? Ta-ta.

Mel: Fine. Bye. 

--End of Phone Convo (or is it?)-- 

Sharon: Can you type quickly?

Nessa: Sure.

Sharon: Good, you take over. You have to write everything I say.

Nessa: *begins typing… you have to--*

Sharon: No, not THAT. 

Nessa: *still typing*

Both: *laugh madly and start reading the previous chapter of the fic, uttering random and strange comments, and singing "Canada Is Really Big" (a damn cool song, by the Arrogant Worms, if anyone cares. YES, you CARE!!!) Try to change seats, having a LOT of difficulty with the simple maneuver*

Nessa: We can do this, really, we can. 

Sharon: We did it. Go us! YAY! *exchanges high-five with Nessa*

Both: *laugh at the idiocy of…well…themselves*

Nessa: How do you spell maneuver? At this time of night, I really don't care.

Sharon: You're sounding more like me every minute. *tear* I'm so proud. Besides, the lovely spell-check will get it! John, are you done with the phone yet?

John: Nope. 

Sharon: No, he's not. 

John; *hangs up the phone*

Sharon: Oh, he's done. Start the phone convo.

--Phone Convo With Mel Resumes--

Sharon: *walks back in the door* Oh, 'e's died. (In BAD accent. NOT my fault, really) *mutters* Liar. 

Mel: Leave me alone. 

Sharon: No. Right, back on. 

Mel: I noticed, this is fun. 

Sharon: We can mock you, and you can't do anything about it.  As is usual. Do you want this peanut butter pancake? *Nessa looks at it in revulsion and shakes head* All right, your loss then.

Mel: please tell me you didn't say peanut butter pancake.

Sharon: *indignant* I DID say peanut butter pancake, they're GOOD!

Mel: Ew. 

Sharon: Xena! (That would be her dog)

Nessa: Oh sure, make the dog eat the pancake. 

Sharon: I will, too. Hope she's not allergic to it. 

Mel: You're nice. (Sarcasm, dur)

Sharon: I AM nice. You can't use 'dur', Nessa. That's MY word. 

Nessa: *uses it anyway*

Sharon: Damn, you Vanessa, damn you. And scribe that.  Isn't this supposed to be about the fic or something? Now sod off and stop tormenting me, demon!

Mel: Which one?

Sharon: BOTH OF YOU! *Mutters* Obviously. *Chortling hysterically*

Mel: We should end this soon. 

Sharon and Nessa: NYAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! (Stupid computer)

Nessa: How do we scribe THAT?

Sharon: I'll spell it out for you. 

*Door opens somewhere off in the distance*

Sharon: *cocks an ear*Brother.  We're safe. 

Nessa: Good. *Giggles hysterically at what rude innuendo she thinks she hears in the word COCKS*

Sharon: Nessa! This is SUPPOSED to be PG!!! Mel, can I hit Nessa over the head with the phone? 

Mel: Go ahead. 

Sharon: ALL RIGHT! *Proceeds to smack Nessa over the head with the phone* Mel, tell her it's supposed to be PG.

Nessa: *Takes phone from Sharon*

Mel: It's supposed to be PG. 

Nessa: All I said what "giggleshysterically at what rude innuendo she thinks she hears in the word COCKS" That is still PG. Almost. *Into phone*Permission to hit Sharon with the phone?

Sharon: NOOOOO! 

Nessa: YES! *Proceeds to clunk Sharon over the head with the phone*

Sharon: *Steals phone back, listens for a minute* HEY! She did NOT say you could do that. 

Nessa: *Evil cackle*

Mel: We should get to the fic soon. 

Sharon: *Ignoring Mel* Awww, Xena wants some peanut butter pancake, doesn't she? 

Nessa: EW! 

Sharon: Shut up Nessa *Into phone* And don't you start either.  

Mel: I said nothing. 

Phil: Sharon, can you get off the phone? You've been on for a really long time. I tried to call from work for a ride, and you were on the phone. 

Sharon: Sorry. Mel, you wouldn't believe this, but I've got to go again. Me and Ness will finish the author's note. 

Mel: Just don't make it too long.

Sharon: *Long pause* What would you do if I hung up right now without answering that?

Mel: Let's see. I would go onto the Internet, into our file and delete the chapter and rewrite it?

Sharon: YOU WOULD NOT!!!

Mel: Riight. 

Sharon: Got to go. Bye. 

--Phone Convo Ends—

Sharon: See, I never DID answer whether I would make it long or not. *Twin evil grins* Perhaps we should end this, you think?

Nessa: *Long pause, while glancing at how incredibly LONG this A/N is* I suppose we should. 

Sharon: *Points madly at computer, slowly looming to attack the screen (In case you care, this is because her BLOODY program turns anything with stars around it into bold type, and it's REALLY REALLY annoying.)*

Nessa: *Backspacing* Hurry up, you idiot computer. You are about to meet your doom. 

Sharon: *Claws at computer screen madly, and then examines fingernails*

Nessa: *Forces Sharon back into her seat*

Sharon: *Pouts* 

Computer: DOES IT AGAIN!!!!!

Sharon: NYRAAAAHHHHHH! *Begins to punch at the screen with knuckles. Examines knuckles to check damage* 

Nessa: Stop that. You're getting as bad as Corrigan. (You DON'T want to know who that is. TRUST ME. It gets me in a Mel-rant for hours and hours) 

Sharon: Right. Onto the fic.

***

          Little sparkly things crackled on the screen, causing the audience to "Ooh!" and "Aah!", like those annoying swots do at fireworks displays.  The little sparkles settled, revealing the Gryffindor Common Room. The room was empty, except for two people: Harry Potter and Ron Weasley 

          "Well, Ron, I've got to head back into the Forbidden Forest."

          Ron looked rather pissed.  "Why THIS time?"

          "The same reason as always; I rush out to rescue someone, nearly die, miraculously recover, and get my picture on the front of the newspaper." Harry looks at Ron as though the answer should have been obvious. 

          "Can't I go save someone? Why am I always the SIDEKICK? Why can't I be the HERO?"

          "Don't worry, Ron," replied Harry. "You're a great sidekick!" He ran up to the boy's dormitory, then came back down sheepishly. "Portrait hole's this way, isn't it?" Without waiting for an answer, harry headed toward the Forbidden Forest. 

          "Stupid prat," said Ron, flopping down onto one of the big red chairs. "He doesn't get it. I never get ANYTHING. Even Hermione is better known than me!" He sighed melodramatically, then began to sing. 

"If you haven't heard of me,

          I wouldn't be surprised,

          I bet you know my friends;

          Their names will never die.

          Hermione is a genius,

          And Harry has a scar,

          But all I am is Harry's Sidekick Ron.

          Harry's Sidekick Ron;

          Harry's Sidekick Ron;

          A nobody shadow of the Boy-Who-Should-Be-Blonde,

          If only I'd been born to a different family,

          I'd do better than to bask in other's glory.  

          I have to pay the clerk,

          To buy 'Break With A Banshee,'

          But not my friend; no, not him;

          He gets them ALL for free.

          I finally get to school

          After destroying a car,

          And still Harry makes the cover,

          With his stupid scar. 

          Harry's Sidekick Ron;

          Harry's Sidekick Ron;

          A nobody shadow of the Boy-Who-Should-Be-Blonde,

          If only I'd been born to a different family,

          I'd do better than to bask in other's glory.  

          One day in the Gryffindor Tower,

          I heard a mighty roar,

          There were a thousand people,

          Lying wounded on the floor" 

          As Ron sang on screen, McGonagall whispered to Snape, "I remember that. Wasn't that the day Professor Flitwick was teaching Neville Longbottom the Severing Charm?" Snape sneered, though it was apparent that he found that day rather amusing. They turned back to the screen. 

          "Help us, Harry, help us,"

          Came the screaming from the mob.

          Then they got a look at me,

          "Aw, nuts, it's only Ron."

          "Harry's Sidekick Ron;

          Harry's Sidekick Ron;

          A nobody shadow of the Boy-Who-Should-Be-Blonde,

          If only I'd been born to a different family,

          I'd do better than to bask in other's glory.  

          "He was cursed by You-Know-Who,

          I thought that I was free,

          Finally, people could get to know me, for me." 

          At this point, Draco Malfoy walked across the screen. He looked rather happy about something.

          "Hi Ron."

          "Hi Draco…Malfoy?! What are you doing in the GRYFFINDOR TOWER?" Malfoy looked rather guilty.

          "Umm…nothing.  Got to go, bye!" The Slyth ran toward the portrait hole as fast as his ferrety legs could carry him.  Ron shook his head and resumed singing.

          "This was my big chance,

          To finally get ahead…

          The next thing you know,

          There's another great Scarhead!

          "Harry's Sidekick Ron;

          Harry's Sidekick Ron;

          A nobody shadow of the Boy-Who-Should-Be-Blonde,

          If only I'd been born to a different family,

          I'd do better than to bask in other's glory.

          "Harry's Sidekick Ron;

          Harry's Sidekick Ron;

          A nobody shadow of the Boy-Who-Should-Be-Blonde,

          If only I'd been born to a different family,

          I'd do better than to bask in other's glory.

          "The Boooooy—Ron."

          The screen turned blue again in a hurry, and a few unsure claps sounded in the Great Hall.  Hermoiny leaned over to Ron.

          "That didn't make any sense!"

          "What?"

          "Harry wasn't cursed.  You-Know-Who didn't even come after him this year, which is why he's in the Hospital Wing right now, remember?"

          "Who cares, 'Mione?" Ron huffed, "I'm a great singer!"

          Hermione heaved an exasperated sigh, and gave up.  Ron, she devoutly believed, was another one who should have been blond.

          George stood up and addressed (ACK!!! Nearly typed 'undressed'!  Hum, not so sure that I'm not going to go and change it back!) the crowd.  "I hope you're enjoying yourselves!  It's not over yet.  And now, for our next performance—"  He flicked his wand at the screen, but instead of playing the next clip, the wand turned into a mouse with a loud 'SQUEAK' and scurried off.  "Oi, Fred, I thought we were out of trick wands!"  

          Fred shrugged and George grabbed his real wand.  The screen faded into another scene in short order.

***

A/N:  Right.  I had nothing to do with that, it was all Aindel's fault.  Before I respond to reviews, there are but few things I feel should be made general public knowledge:

1. Draco Malfoy is a lousy git and Severus Snape is the world's hottest, most manly man.  And he is REAL!

2. Yester morn I ate a Bacon 'N' Sour Cream chip that had the likeness of a dog in the middle of the negative space.  It wasn't just me, either.  All my friends saw it there, too.  It tasted good and reminded me of Snape. 

3. The reference to 'proof' that was at the beginning of the author's notes is from the following: 

  "…Across the Great Hall, Harry could see Malfoy banging his goblet on the table.  It was a sickening sight."

That is a REAL STATEMENT from one of the books, likely the first one.  I believe that the other quote from a random fanfic author's story is just the clinching proof of Draco's unhealthy perversion of having sex in public, and on tables meant for eating.

That's all!  If you wrote a review, good for you.  You shall be spared when the Final Reckoning comes.  All the rest of you soused sots, leave a review.  MOST CREATIVE DEATH THREAT gets a special dedication next chapter!

PS:  Aindel wanted to formally protest that fact that I used the word 'sex' in a PG fic.  Let me just say:

SEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEX!

There.

Reviews:

Andaisha: Actually, no, Aindel came up with it.  I did, however, write the  last chapter, as you would know if you bothered to read A/Ns.  Now review again.  Again!  AGAIN!!!

C Jazz: And don't apologize!  Every time I try to talk to someone, it's "Sorry this," or "Forgive me that," or "I'm not –worthy-"… don't worry.  We don't care whether you bellow at us; we rather enjoy it.  *Grins* I like the rambles, too.  Of course, my silver tongue usually gives me the upper hand in witticism fights.  'Ta.

AlexaDonaghy:  Don't you worry.  We seem to be writing at a fairly good clip.  *knocks on wood*

I SUPPORT THE WRONG 'SHIP DRACO/GOBLET!  I have proof, what do you have?

~Cy @--- and Aindel


	4. I feel, er, Something

A/N:
    
    Sharon- Oh lord, must we? Do you realize that this is the first author's note where we won't have any interrupters? Seriously--
    
    Mel- SHUT UP!
    
    Sharon- --the1st chapter was John, 2nd was Steph, Vanessa was typing most of the third. *Sings 'I feel Pretty'*
    
    Mel- Ok, I already listened to that song twice today.
    
    Sharon *whistles the song*
    
    Mel- Do you want to answer our reviews now?
    
    Sharon- Is it my turn?
    
    Mel- Nope, it's mine. You're writing the chapter.
    
    REVIEWS
    
    AlexaDonaghy- DO NOT feel enlightened. There is NO relationship between Draco
    
    and his cup. That is an idea that came from the twisted mind of Sharon. I did
    
    not want that in the chapter.
    
    Enelya- None have ever succeeded in stopping us from talking. We will talk all
    
    we want. We don't care if you don't read it.
    
    Fancy- Well, you're safe for now, but we may decide to strike you down for the
    
    fun of it. The twins are my favorite too. Sharon doesn't like them. Ok, never
    
    mind. She's decided that she now likes them, but enjoys killing them off
    
    because I like them so much.
    
    Hpdigigal- Sharon despises people who say this. She says that you are
    
    classified as a Lowest of All Class Horrible Writer (see the bio of El Borla
    
    Cynara). I think you're cool, and that you should ignore Sharon because she is
    
    a bad typist who made at least ten mistakes in the first chapter. (ß the previous was responded to by a Helf with little-to-no grasp of 'joking'.  Cy was joking when she labeled Hpdigigal a Horrible Writer.)
    
    Chapter 4 (I Feel Pretty)
    
                   Deep in the dank depths of the dungeons laid the Slytherin common room. 
    
    Although most people assume that just because you're Slytherin that
    
    automatically means you're a mean, nasty person, I'll have you know that is not
    
    true. The real secret behind the disgustingness that is Slytherin all lies in
    
    the Common Room. Think about it, if the Slytherin Common Room was in a tower
    
    just like everyone else's, they would probably be nice too. Unfortunately, as
    
    it is, it seems our dear Slytherins will just have to settle for being
    
    intelligent.
    
                   However, this has nothing to do with what's really happening, so let us hie
    
    back to reality. Several levels above, in the Great Hall, the silken screen was
    
    still sparkling; Ronald Weasley is still smiling arrogantly. McGonagall was
    
    still glacing hopelessly at Dumbledore, and Dumbledore himself was still smiling
    
    obliviously at the Lemon Drop. Draco Malfoy was grinning to his cronies about
    
    Ron's horrible singing voice.
    
                   But not for long.
    
                   It would soon be a very long time before he ever smiled again. The screen
    
    stopped sparking and turned black, or at least everyone assumed it was black. 
    
    But then the camera adjusted to the lighting and the interior of the Slytherin
    
    Common Room, revealed in all its dank disgusting glory. The angle adjusted
    
    until Crabbe and Goyle could be seen sitting on the couch. Neither of them
    
    blinked nor spoke. It looked quite a lot like they were puppets, which, in
    
    fact, might have be true. A lone fly buzzed and the sat atop Goyle's head. It
    
    was frightened off moments later when Draco Malfoy danced through he common room
    
    door humming happily and pirouetting. It was almost unnoticeable that in his
    
    left hand he clutched a goblet. He kissed it once and turned to Crabbe and
    
    Goyle.
    
    (A/N: at this time, Mel had to remind Sharon that this is a PG fic, and the
    
    rating will not change)
    
    (A/N: At this time, Sharon needed to remind Mel that she is a co-author and she
    
    can change the rating of the fic any time she wants)
    
    (A/N: Mel would like to remind Sharon that she could change it back)
    
    (A/N: Sharon at this time would like to remind Mel that she is a non-entity and
    
    to shut up and keep typing)
    
    (A/N: So long as you keep it PG)
    
    "Crabbe, Goyle! I just met the love of my life!"
    
    Crabbe shook his head, clearing the cobwebs from his head, and said brightly and
    
    intelligently, "What?"
    
    Draco scowled and continued his dancing about, though it was very un-Slytherin
    
    of him.  Suddenly stopping and leaning on the mantle of the fireplace, Draco's face began to twitch, starting with an eyebrow-shiver, and moving on over his face.  It looked as though he were trying very hard to resist some temptation.  He lost the battle.
    
                   He burst into song.  
    
                   He very effectively nullified any further attempts to appear evil.
    
                   "I feel pretty!" he sang, "Oh so pretty!
    
                   I feel pretty, and witty, and gaaaay!
    
                   And I pity any guy who isn't me today!"
    
    Crabbe and Goyle blinked at each other.  Luckily, they weren't bright enough to be afraid.  Draco continued.
    
                   "I feel charming!
    
                   Oh, so charming!
    
                   It's alarming, how charming I feeeel!
    
                   And so pretty that I hardly can believe I'm real."
    
    Goyle, on a whim, sang:  "Lala lala la la, la laaa lala!"
    
                   "See that pretty girl—" Draco stopped quickly, looking chagrined, but quickly recovered himself. "er—guy in that mirror there?
    
                   Who can that attractive guy be?
    
                   Such a pretty face, such a pretty robe, such a pretty _me_!
    
                   "I feel stunning!
    
                   And entrancing!
    
                   I feel like running and dancing, you bet!
    
                   For I'm loved by a pretty wonderful goblet!"
    
    Crabbe turned to Goyle, very unnaturally, as though something were speaking through him.  His voice came out about eight octaves higher then any voice has a right to be.
    
                   "Have you met my good friend Draco,
    
                   The craziest wiz on the block?
    
                   You'll know him the minute you see him,
    
                   He's the one who is in an advanced state of shock."
    
    Goyle nodded knowingly, and joined Crabbe in his operatic exercises.
    
                   "He thinks he's in love,
    
                   He thinks he's in Spain."
    
    Draco piped up briefly in the background, "La, la, la," and started sucking on his goblet.
    
    (A/N:  Heh, heh, heh… *is thwaped*  Ouch!)
    
    The twin dummies shook their heads sadly.
    
                   "He isn't in love,
    
                   He's merely insane."
    
                   "It must be the heat," Crabbe speculated, 
    
                   "Or some rare disease." 
    
    Draco came up for air.  "La, la, la!"
    
                   "Or too much to eat, 
    
                   Or maybe it's fleas?" Goyle wondered.
    
    A look of protest came across Draco's face.  "I'm not like you Goyle, I _bathe_!"
    
                   "Keep away from him, 'cept the two of us," Crabbe and Goyle advised the Slytherins that had started to gather.
    
                   "This isn't the Malfoy who whips us!" They added confidentially, and the crowd started to edge away.  More then a few in the audience were a little green at the gills.
    
                   "Modest, blood-pure," the thugs caroled, and many students (yes, even Slyths) coughed loudly.
    
                   "Polite and refined."  
    
                   Draco twirled like a ballerina, and firmly added in his two Knuts' worth, "La, la, la." (A/N:  Cy grins at the innuendo she thinks she hears.)
    
                   Crabbe and Goyle continued with the determination of a tiny brain set to do a task.  
    
                   "Well-bred and mature, and—"

            From the Gryffindor end of the Great Hall, a voice shouted, "-Out of his mind-," drowning out the racket of the two wailing Slyths for a moment.  Snape noted Lupin, McGonagall, and Dumbledore all (very inconspicuously) tossing small bits of food at the screen.

            On the screen, Draco broke away from the confining ring of Slytherins and, via bouncing off the couch, jumped onto a mahogany table (Snape appeared to be having an inner conflict with himself, before muttering, "Destruction of furniture; that's a point o… off… -to- Slytherin!"), and continued in his solo:

            "I feel pretty!

            Oh, so pretty

            That the school should just give me it's key!

            A committee should be ordered just to honour me.

            "I feel dizzy!

            I feel sunny!

            I feel fizzy and funny and fine!

            And so pretty, Miss Hogwarts can just resign!"

This last elicited an angry gasp from Blaise Zabini, who had been awarded the title in the mistaken belief that he was a girl.  The boy rose up from his Table, slapped a cringing Draco, and stormed out of the Great Hall, diva-style.  Onscreen, the deluded Malfoy heir persisted, while his two brutish mutts howled accompaniment.

"See that pretty guy in that mirror there?  ("What mirror, where?")

Who can that attractive guy be?  ("Who, what, where?  Who?  Who?  Who?")

Such a pretty face; such a pretty robes; such a pretty smile; such a pretty ME! ("Such a pretty him, such a pretty git, such a pretty he-she!")

I feel stunning! ("He feels stunning,")

And entrancing! ("And entrancing,")

I feel like running just like a pup! ("Runni—er… a dog, Draco?")

For I'm loved by a pretty wonder CUP!"  Draco finished with a showy grin and flourish.  A tomato was chucked from the Common Room crowd, and then another, and another.  A large melon (cantaloupe) hit the golden goblet clutched by the little swot's grimy fist, and it was knocked away.  "Nooo!" cried Draco, and made a slow-motion dive after the chalice, but hit the floor hard, due to the fact that his special-effects that Daddy had bought for him just in case of a situation like this one couldn't manage a simple 'Wingardium Leviosa' between the lot of them.

The screen went black(er), and the 'bugger' dropped to the ground.  There was dead silence for a full minute.

A small titter came from the back of the room, and swept up the aisles until the entire Hall echoed with malicious, raucous laughter.  Snape made a note in his little blackmail book, and decided to give Lucius a Floo tonight.  Dumbledore shook his head that a lad under his tutelage had gone so far astray.  Then he put it down to young Malfoy's being a Slytherin, and therefore completely out of his Quidditch field, and selected a malt ball.

Draco Malfoy cast a large number of _Crucios_, and ran out of the Great Hall, like his father's hounds were on his heels.  The Unforgivables were ignored, due to the fact that they only hit Hufflepuffs.

Another 'bugger' spun out a blue cyclone, Snape felt another heavy blow to the head (Dumbledore was the spitting _image_ of virtuousness), and the next show began.

A/N: MY GOD it took her long enough.  You see, this is what happens when you leave a chapter in the hands of a person who is constantly losing her computer privileges.  Honestly.  It's ridiculous.  The next chapter will be up MUCH faster, since I'm writing it.  If only we could remember who's it was…

Toodles for now!

Aindel (& Cy)

Otherwise known as Mellimeter and Pinocchio    


	5. McGonagall Came Back

Weasley Camera 

A/N:

Mel: Ok, we have to make it shorter.

Sharon: Awww…

Mel: We've had people complain.

…

Mel: What are you doing?

Sharon: Typing.

Mel: Typing what?

Sharon: The A/N.

Mel: But it's my turn.

Sharon: No, it's not.  *is assailed by father*

Sharon: Ack! Glah, burae, apwof!

Sharon's Father: Come talk to me when you're done.

Mel:  What are you doing?

Sharon: Being assailed by my father. Now then, speak.

Mel: Why are you typing the A/N thing?

Sharon: Cause you do the chapter, I do notes and reviews.

Mel: No, you do end notes and reviews.

Sharon: At any rate, I've already started.

Mel: Righty, then.  Stupid—thing—WORK!

Sharon: Computer again?

Mel: Yeah.  Finish the stupid song!

Sharon: "The Cat Came Back," do we know who that's by?

Mel: No, isn't it an old folk-type song?

Sharon: Meh.  Well, kudos to whoever wrote it.

Mel: WHY?

Sharon: It's a good song.

Mel: No it's not.

Sharon: Yes, it is, don't be silly.

Mel: Fred Penner sang it.  Repeatedly.

Sharon: That's the way the song GOES.

Mel: He sang it once every show.

Sharon: I'll have you know that at this moment, I have… 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 Fred Penner songs on my computer.

Mel: Please tell me you're not serious?

Sharon: I am.

Mel: Why don't you just do reviews now, so I can swear at my computer?  

Sharon: OK.

Reviews:

None, since either you SLIMY DAMNED GITS didn't give us any, or FF.net is acting up.  Either way, we sentence you to forty days and nights in the deepest pits of Hell!  West Dungeons, Statue of Salazar Slytherin.  Password is 'Gryff***ers suck'.  (MEL: I had to put the stars there, because Shar refused to let me change it, and this IS a PG fic.)

Chapter 5 (The Cat Came Back *shudder*)

            On the screen now was a tabby cat.  The cat stalked silently toward the desk in the room, and stood absolutely still.  The next instant, standing in the room where the tabby had been was none other than Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration Professor and Head of Gryffindor House.  She pointed her wand at the door and muttered two spells:  first, the locking spell, followed by the silencing charm.  McGonagall let out a sigh.

            On her desk sat various magical pictures of Dumbledore.  She smiled as they waved to her and called out cheery greetings.  Nobody knew her secret, and no one ever would.

            "Good evening, Sirs," McGonagall said to the photographs.

            "Good evening, fair Minerva," the one in the gold frame answered.  "You're looking lovely tonight."

            McGonagall blushed.  These pictures had been altered a bit from the real Dumbledore, though Minerva didn't like him any less.  However, she didn't really want the photos to be offering her various sweets and cookies at all hours of the night, or going on about Purple Funny Friars and such (A/N: refer to Harry Potter and the Excruciatingly Pointless Fanfic by Hedwig and the Angry Snitch).

            She sat back in her chair, thinking about random things.  She remembered the parts of her life she had spent as a cat, and she began to sing softly.

"Old Wizard Merlin had troubles of his own  
He had a yellow cat who wouldn't leave its home;  
He tried and he tried to give the cat away,  
He gave it to a man going far, far away.  
  
But the cat came back the very next day,  
The cat came back, they thought she was a goner  
But the cat came back; it just couldn't stay away.  
Away, away, yea, yea, yea."  
  


After this, she began to sing louder, thankful for the Silencing Charm she had put on her office previously.

  
"The man around the corner swore he'd kill the cat on sight,  
He hid in the bushes in the dead of the night;  
He waited and he waited for the cat to come around,  
Ninety seven pieces of the man is all they found.  
  
But the cat came back the very next day,  
The cat came back, they thought she was a goner  
But the cat came back; it just couldn't stay away.  
Away, away, yea, yea, yea  
  
 He gave it to a man going up on his broom,  
He told him to take it to the man in the moon;  
The broom came down about ninety miles away,  
Where he is now, well I dare not say.  
  
But the cat came back the very next day,  
The cat came back, they thought she was a goner  
But the cat came back; it just couldn't stay away.  
Away, away, yea, yea, yea  
  
He gave it to a man going to Hogwarts,  
Told him for to take it to the Hogsmeade ports;  
First the train hit the track, then it jumped the rail,  
Not a soul was left behind to tell the gruesome tale.  
  
But the cat came back the very next day,  
The cat came back, they thought she was a goner  
But the cat came back; it just couldn't stay away.  
Away, away, yea, yea, yea."

She came to the most sentimental verse, and her voice caught in her throat.  
  
 "The cat was a possessor of a family of its own,  
With seven little kittens till there came a tebo (A/N: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them);  
Tore the houses all apart and tossed the cat around,  
The air was full of kittens, and not a one was ever found.  
  
But the cat came back the very next day,  
The cat came back, we thought she was a goner  
But the cat came back; it just couldn't stay away.  
Away, away, yea, yea, yea."

By this time, the Professor was into the song heart and soul.  She jumped up from the chair and began to dance wildly around the office.  Anyone walking by would have thought she'd dropped ice down the back of her robes.  
  
 "But the cat came back the very next day,  
The cat came back, we thought she was a goner  
But the cat came back; it just couldn't stay away.  
Away, away, yea, yea, yea."

            McGonagall stopped singing.  She twirled around one last time for effect before magically turning out the lights and retiring to her bedroom.

            Back in the Great Hall, the real McGonagall was sitting with her head in her hands.  She couldn't believe that she had done that.  Now everyone knew…everything!  They knew about Albus!  They knew about her family!  They knew her AGE!

            Dumbledore, being his balmy self, didn't have a clue as to what had just happened, and helped himself to another sweet.  Anyone who didn't know him would wonder how he could eat so many sweets without being overweight.  Anyone who did know him knew that Albus kept the weight off by endlessly chasing butterflies around the Hogwarts grounds.

            Fred and George shuddered.  They remembered that editing session, too.  Before they could think about it any more, another blue blast hurdled toward the screen.  The twins grinned.  Time for some more fun.

A/N:  Mellimetre here.  Wow.  That chapter sucked.  I hate Fred Penner.  I didn't when I was a kid, but I do now.  And Raffi.  Raffi irks me.  What kind of a name IS Raffi anyway?

Next chapter will be better, I promise.  Sharon's writing it!

R-E-V-I-E-W!

Ttfn!

~ Author #2


End file.
